


'Still Deaf'

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: Hand to Mouth [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BSL, British Sign Language, Brotherly Love, Deaf, Deaf Character, Gen, Mycroft is a stellar big brother, Sherlock is deaf, Siblings, Sweet, deaf!lock, deaf!sherlock, mummy - Freeform, the holmes brothers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer holiday is coming to an end and Sherlock will soon be attending the same secondary education school as his brother. He isn't hopeful about the entire affair, but Mycroft is sure Sherlock will make it through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Still Deaf'

_I don’t like them. All through dinner - nothing._

Standing with Sherlock, in the middle of the country-style kitchen of their paternal Grandmother’s Surrey home, Mycroft regarded his almost eleven-year-old brother face-on. He tried not to smile as he watched Sherlock’s eyes moving side to side as he tried to see his own ears. 

“You can barely even see them.” Mycroft spoke as he signed. “Your hair hides them.” 

At the end of the summer break, he would be starting at the same school as Mycroft; his first year at ‘big school’ would be Mycroft’s last, and all of the Holmes’ were anxious and unsure as to how Sherlock would adjust to new faces, new manners of speaking, and having an interpreter following him from class to class. Violet was thankful Mycroft would be there for at least the first year - it would give Sherlock that little bit of support as he transitioned, meaning there was somebody he could sign with who wasn’t an adult. His lip reading was good, but it wasn’t brilliant when there were new mouths to learn. The Holmes’ used BSL and Makaton exclusively with Sherlock, but recently Mycroft had begun to speak as he signed, giving Sherlock more practice with reading people’s lips in spoken conversations. 

Sherlock frowned deeply. _But there is no difference._

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “Nothing at all is different? No small sounds?” He wavered a moment before saying. “Still deaf?” 

Sherlock’s eyes rolled dramatically. _Still deaf._ Sherlock confirmed, his index finger lingering at his right ear for a moment as he tried to work out if he could ‘hear’. He made a fist with his right hand and nodded it forwards at the wrist. _Still deaf._ He repeated. 

Sherlock reached his long fingers up into his hair and tore the equipment from his ears. His mother had been urging him to get used to his hearing aids, insisting they would be useful at school if they at least gave him some assistance with lip reading. But Sherlock detested them - found them bulky and felt like they drew attention to him - and had already decided he would not be wearing them at school. 

“You should try to get used to them.” Mycroft repeated what his mother had been saying to Sherlock for the past few months. “Even if it’s only residual hearing; in a hearing school, it could be better than nothing.” 

Sherlock shook his head sharply. _No._ He screwed up his face and placed the hearing aids down onto the island counter, right beside the large bowl of overripe fruit and the bottle of skimmed milk that their mother had neglected to return to the fridge when she had made coffee for everyone after dinner.

Mycroft reached down and retrieved the aids. He turned them over in his hands and then looked up at his brother. Sherlock narrowed his eyes as Mycroft reached out and, without Sherlock protesting one bit, he ensured they were on and echoing loudly before he slipped them into place. He stepped back and smiled at Sherlock. “Hearing.” He said, his right index finger sliding from his ear to his chin smoothly. “And...still deaf.” 

Sherlock crinkled his nose. _Still deaf._

Mycroft turned around as the kitchen door opened and gave his cousin, Andrew, a brief smile to acknowledge his presence. Andrew was four years older than Sherlock and almost quieter than him. While inoffensive most of the time and somewhat shy, neither Mycroft nor Sherlock had ever really liked their cousin. They found him boring, obnoxious when he did choose to involve himself in conversation, and always slyly rude whenever he felt he had the opportunity to be. 

“What are you two doing in here? Aunty Vi was looking for you. Your Mum and Dad wanted to leave soon.” Andrew spoke with a well-mannered tone and a more refined accent than Mycroft could ever dream to accomplish. As he spoke, Mycroft signed. 

_He said leave soon? I was looking - I thought leek soup._ Sherlock frowned, a little amused but also quite annoyed. This was his cousin and still he wasn’t able to fathom the placement of his lips well enough to converse with him. How would he cope with a school full of children and adults he’d never met before?

Mycroft choked down a chuckle. “Come on,” He spoke as he signed. “Mummy wants to go home.” Mycroft had always liked using Sherlock’s sign for Mummy - the M hand tapped against the forehead, just above the eyebrow, somewhat like a salute. Sherlock had once said it was meant to mean like a crown. 

He’d seen others sign Mum/Mother/Mummy in a similar fashion, but it never seemed to be quite so ‘matriarchal’ as Sherlock’s designated sign. He’d always liked the way Sherlock’s voice sounded when he said Mummy, too. It wasn’t often Sherlock used his voice since he’d quit speech therapy, but Mycroft had begun to hear him trying to use it again and had wondered if Sherlock simply thought that if he went to his new school and talked, nobody would be any the wiser. 

Truth was, Sherlock’s voice was deep, broken and very obviously ‘deaf’. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock would like the sound if he was ever able to hear it. But he had always liked Sherlock’s voice - their mother had, too - it was distinct, of course, and his words were mispronounced and chopped up, but there were ways in which Sherlock pronounced words that were so unique to him that both Mycroft and his mother had come to adore it. 

“Sherlock?” Andrew called as Mycroft and Sherlock passed him, heading toward the door to lead out of the kitchen. 

Mycroft reached out and tapped Sherlock’s shoulder as he walked a step or two ahead. Sherlock turned around, eyebrows crooked in questioning. “Andrew called your name.” 

Sherlock looked around Mycroft at his cousin. _What?_ His right index finger moved swiftly side to side. 

“I won’t see you again now before the school term begins in a couple of weeks. The very best of luck. You’ll need it.” He smiled and Mycroft, right there and then, hated the little bastard. 

_Banana. Kite. Football. Penis. Motorbike…_

Mycroft frowned but suddenly smirked as he realised what Sherlock was doing - his hands moved quick and his facial expressions were over exaggerated as he launched into a dance of random, jibberish signs with loud pops and hums, clearly causing confusion for Andrew who’s mouth bobbed open as he watched Sherlock, completely lost. 

_...Mummy. Dog. School. Chicken. Brother…_

“Alright…” Mycroft spoke up. “Mummy’s waiting.” He signed silently. “You punished him enough; let’s go.” 

Sherlock dropped his hands and grinned at his cousin. _Speak all you like. Still deaf. Idiot._ Sherlock turned and Mycroft followed. 

On second thoughts, Mycroft imagined Sherlock might do just fine at school.


End file.
